Her heartbeat seemed to quicken, and there was a rushing sound in her ears. She closed her eyes when the outside sunlight seemed to bother her. A strange sensation ran over her senses, and her throat grew dry, her stomach twisting with pain. But this was a very different pain, one she had never felt before. Her skin grew sensitive, prickling with the slightest touch. It was not the familiar illness at all.
And when the sharp stabbing pains caught her stomach, she realized thetruth. This was poison.
The silver goblet fell from her fingertips, the wine spilling everywhere as she fought to remain conscious.
I don’t want to die.She’d mistakenly believed that she was prepared for the worst, that she could face the end with dignity when it came. But it wasn’t true at all.
She gasped for air, terrified of the darkness that beckoned.
Her last thought was of Raine and how she wished she could have told him the feelings she’d held in her heart. But now, he would never know.
Chapter Fourteen
Raine heard the sound of women screaming, and he hurried back to the chamber. A dark premonition passed over him, that something had happened to Carice. One of her maids bolted from the room and confirmed his fears, “We need a healer. My lady is ill.”
But an ordinary illness wouldn’t cause the women to scream. Something was terribly wrong.
“Go and fetch someone,” Raine commanded the maid. “I will stay with Lady Carice.”
When he entered the bedchamber, he found the other maid sitting on the floor beside Carice’s fallen body. She was so still, she looked as if death had already claimed her.God above, no.His blood numbed within his veins, and Raine could hardly grasp what had happened.
“The wine,” the maid wept. “I think the wine made her sick.”
He saw the silver goblet then, along with the pool of red wine. Outwardly, it didn’t appear any different from other wine, but he couldn’t know what was in it.
“Where did this wine come from?” he demanded.
The maid shrugged. “One of the men who joined our traveling party this morning. He brought in the wine and the goblets. I thought he was your companion.”
The numbness turned from ice into hot rage. She had to be speaking of Sir Darren. And now their earlier conversation made sense. Somehow, the Norman commander had tampered with the wine, knowing that the High King would come to visit Carice. It was a means of ensuring the man’s death if Raine failed in his duties.
And Darren wouldn’t care if Carice drank it, too. The knight wanted Rory Ó Connor dead above all else.
Raine knelt beside Carice and lifted her into his arms. Her complexion was gray, and when he touched her throat, her pulse beat swiftly. “Don’t give up,” he pleaded. “Stay with me, Carice.”
When the maid continued weeping loudly, Raine ordered her to go and find someone to help them. Crying wasn’t going to save anyone, and he wasn’t about to leave Carice’s side.
He cradled her limp form in his arms, feeling as though someone was tearing his heart out of his chest. He didn’t care that she had ordered him to go. Earlier, he had been so troubled about how to get her away from Tara, he hadn't known how to answer her questions. Words weren’t his strength—he far preferred actions. And regardless of what Carice had demanded, he would never leave her again.
Her breathing was labored, and he stroked back her hair. For a brief moment, her eyelids flickered open, and her pupils were dilated. “Fight for me,chérie. Don’t leave.” Though he couldn’tknow if she understood his words, he pressed his face against hers. “Would that I could take your place.”
It was true. If he had the choice to surrender his life and give hers back, he would do it without hesitation. Her eyes closed, and his chest constricted. If God was punishing him for his past sins, there could be no greater penance than to lose this woman. She had made him realize what it meant to live.
As he held her in his arms, he prayed that somehow she could be saved. He continued talking to her, stroking her hair and begging for her to keep breathing.
The chamber door opened, and he was dimly aware that the healer had arrived. “Step back so I may look at her,” the old woman demanded.
But Raine couldn’t bring himself to let go of Carice. It felt as if she were clinging to a fragile thread of life, and if he abandoned her now, she might surrender to death.
“We believe someone poisoned the wine,” the maid said.
The healer peered into the ewer and poured some of the liquid into another goblet. She held up a few crushed berries, and her face turned serious. “Someone put deadly nightshade into the wine. I cannot tell if it was a root infusion or merely these crushed berries, but I may not be able to save her.”
“Try,” Raine insisted. He gently laid Carice upon the bed and held her hand while he urged the healer, “Give her medicines or a tea—anything you have to stop the poison.”
The older woman gave orders for one of the maids to fetch vinegar and boiling water. “I will see what I can get her to drink, but she is in God’s hands now.”
He sat beside Carice on the bed, gripping her hand as if he could hold her to him. His mind and body had gone numb while the healer steeped herbs he didn’t recognize.
